


The Case of the Flying Toblerone: An Inspector Crieff Mystery

by Comma_Kaze, jbs_teeth



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Case Fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comma_Kaze/pseuds/Comma_Kaze, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbs_teeth/pseuds/jbs_teeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has bought Martin something special for his birthday, but when he goes to present it to his Skip, he discovers it's missing. But, never fear: DIs Crieff and Richardson are on the case!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Flying Toblerone: An Inspector Crieff Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> **(from Comma-Kaze)** *points* She started it. ;)  
>  **(from JBS-Teeth)** I couldn't have done this alone because I don't have their voices in my head... that's her job. Also, more CP fic, or so help me, I'm taking the internets and going home.

The whine of the engines faded to the usual background noise as they levelled off, and Douglas’ attention drifted lazily to Martin. “That was fifteen for you and twenty-two for me, by my count. Good show in that last round, though.”  
  
“Thank you,” Martin replied with great dignity.  
  
“Is it your birthday, then?”  
  
“Thirty-four years today,” Martin confirmed. “I’m surprised you needed to ask, what with Arthur’s painfully loud and off-key rendition of the Happy Birthday song earlier.”  
  
“When Arthur is the source of information, one learns to verify the facts through other means. Happy birthday, Martin; bad luck that you’re stuck in a flying tin cupboard for most of it, though.”  
  
Martin shrugged. “It’s not that bad! At least this trip is a short one, and we’ll be back in Fitton by dinner time.”  
  
“Have big plans for the evening, do --”  
  
Suddenly, a strangled shriek sliced through the white noise of GERTI’s engine. Both pilots immediately jumped up to investigate the source of the noise.  
  
“Goodness knows I’m not usually a devotee to protocol, but I believe it’s customary for one of the pilots to remain in the flight deck to fly the aeroplane,” Douglas said, voice unusually concerned.  
  
“Right. Yes. As senior officer on this plane, clearly I should...uh...” Martin glanced between the instrument panel and the door to the cabin, uncertain.  
  
They were saved having to decide who should investigate when the flight deck door flew open and a very upset Arthur hurled himself through in decidedly dramatic fashion. “Your Toblerone!” he cried, clutching his bag to his chest. “Skip, your Toblerone’s missing!”  
  
Douglas released a relieved breath, rolled his eyes and settled back into the co-pilot’s seat while Martin stared at Arthur in confusion. “I didn’t have a Toblerone. What on earth are you talking about, Arthur?”  
  
“Yes, you did, Skip, you did! I promise you, you had a Toblerone, I got you one for your birthday. But, now it’s gone, and you don’t have one anymore, and I’ve ruined your birthday and your treat! How will you know that I remembered you today?”  
  
“I think the histrionics would be enough of an indicator,” Douglas muttered too quietly for Arthur to catch over his panicked rambling. Martin, on the other hand, was close enough to hear and discreetly kick Douglas in the shin.  
  
“Arthur, please calm down and explain what happened.”  
  
“It’s your birthday, Skip, and I got you a Toblerone!” Arthur cried. “But, it’s gone missing. I had it in my bag -- I know I did -- but now it’s gone, and it’s all my fault!”  
  
“Are you certain you didn’t just leave it somewhere? I hate to remind you, my lad, but you’re not exactly known for your reliability in acquiring items and transporting them to their intended destination.”  
  
“Douglas!” Martin hissed, mindful of Arthur’s distraught state.  
  
“I _know_ I had it because I remembered what happened that time with the piano and the addresses, so I put the candy in my bag and zipped it shut as soon as I bought it. Here, you can see the receipt is still in there!”  
  
Martin looked from the crumpled slip of paper in Arthur’s hand to Arthur’s wet eyes. “I believe you, Arthur.”  
  
“Thanks, Skip.” Arthur cheered visibly, but then his face crumpled again. “But, I was going to give you a Toblerone for your birthday, except that I’ve lost it, and now everything’s _ruined._ ”  
  
Cringing at the devastated expression on Arthur’s usually cheery face, Martin hurried to reassure him, “No, Arthur, it’s alright! It’s okay; just please don’t start crying.”  
  
“But, Skip, it was your _birthday present!_ I know it’s just a candy bar, but it’s supposed to be special because today’s your special day, and I don’t even know how I could have lost it!” His brows creased as he considered the facts. “I had it then, but I don’t have it now, and it couldn’t have fallen out because I zipped the bag shut.” He gasped, all traces of guilt fleeing to make way for indignation. “Someone must have taken it from my bag! Who would steal your birthday Toblerone, though?”  
  
In the brief pause that followed, Martin and Arthur blinked at each other and turned as one to stare at Douglas, who bristled. “Douglas...”  
  
“What? You can’t seriously be accusing me of stealing it.”  
  
“Oh, yes we can,” Martin growled.  
  
“On what grounds?” Douglas’ voice was outraged. “The regard for high culinary excellence that Arthur and I share, of which Toblerones are _obviously_ the pinnacle? You’re right; how could I have resisted the opportunity to endow myself with the gourmet cuisine known as overpriced _airport chocolate?_ ”  
  
“Douglas, you _always_ steal things. You’re our go-to man when something goes missing, and you’re practically always the culprit! Does Birling Day ring any bells?”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur broke in, “ _And_ I’ve seenyou eat an entire foot of chocolate, before: That time when we were in Belgium, and you thought the cashier in the shops was ‘the Aphrodite of our millenium’.”  
  
“That, Inspector Morse, was fine Belgian chocolate prepared by Franciscan monks who have been making it for more than two centuries.” Douglas turned to Martin to continue. “And, I steal the whiskey from Mr. Birling because it’s _valuable_ and I plan to sell it. That doesn’t make me a compulsive thief, Martin, and I’m offended that you think I would stoop so far beneath my exacting standards,” he sniffed. “A Toblerone is hardly worth my time and effort when I could just buy one myself for a few pounds.”  
  
“Yes, well, if it were any old Toblerone, I’d believe you,” Martin snapped, “but this one was the one Arthur was going to give _me_ for my birthday! You’re always trying to one-up me; I wouldn’t be surprised if stealing my birthday candy was just another way to go about it.”  
  
“Skip! Douglas wouldn’t do that! Not your birthday present! Would you, Douglas?”  
  
“Wouldn’t he, Arthur? He seems happy enough to nick the whole cheese tray and my pudding whenever he can. I wouldn’t put this past him.”  
  
“I’ll tell you what, birthday boy, here’s a little present from me: You’re right. I did intend to nick the chocolate.”  
  
“I knew it!”  
  
“Douglas!”  
  
But Douglas continued in a kinder tone. “Though, Martin, please believe even an old swindler like me wouldn’t steal a birthday gift from you. You know we missed lunch today, and I didn’t want to give Arthur an excuse to try and feed us. So, yes: I saw that Arthur had a bar of chocolate, and I was fully prepared to steal it and eat it myself. But, I didn’t get the chance. It was already gone by the time I got my hands on Arthur’s bag.”  
  
“So help me, Douglas, if this is you trying to throw us off the scent again...”  
  
“You know I never use the same trick twice. And to convince you even further, I’m going to help you crack the case.”  
  
They stared at each other for several seconds, Arthur glancing between them, until Martin nodded. “Alright, then.” Martin took a breath and gave Arthur a cheery smile. “Let’s get to the bottom of this mystery.”  
  
Arthur grinned. “Brilliant! We’ll be like Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson and Gladstone!”  
  
“And, who, betwixt the three of us, is the ingenious Mr. Holmes?” Douglas’ voice lost the gentle edge it had conveyed a few moments ago and resumed its usual bite.  
  
“I think that’s perfectly clear.”  
  
“So do I.” Martin and Douglas grinned at each other, shark-like, while Arthur beamed and bounced in excitement.  
  
“Now, Arthur, explain to us --”  
  
“In my own words?!”  
  
“Oh, God,” Martin groaned. “Are we really going to go through all this again? Yes; in your own words, explain to us what exactly happened this morning.”  
  
“Brilliant! This is just like that time with Mr. Birling’s whiskey, except now you’re _both_ Miss Marple!”  
  
“I thought you just said we were like the Baker Street Gang? Anyway, Arthur, please stick to the point!”  
  
“Right, Skip. So, I woke up in the house around five, which is really a nice time to wake up. It’s not quite so early that you want to go back to sleep, but it’s early enough that you don’t have to rush around to be ready to go at six-thirty.”  
  
“Arthur!”  
  
“Sorry! Anyway, I was alone in the house because Mum was sleeping over with Herc. Though, now that I think of it, she told me to never, ever tell you that.”  
  
After a moment, Martin managed a squeak, accompanied by a low groan from Douglas.  
  
“I second the request, Arthur. Never, ever tell us that again. I’ll be spending the rest of forever trying to forget I heard it in the first place.”  
  
Finding his voice again, Martin tried, but didn’t quite succeed, at covering his traumatized tone. “Please continue. Starting with the candy bar, and sticking to just the candy bar.”  
  
“Okay, so I wanted to get you a gift for your birthday, Skip, because I know it’s your birthday because I looked at Mum’s employee files a few weeks ago when she had me do the filing, though she said later that she had to go back through and fix everything herself so she didn’t know why she bothered to have me do it in the first place. But anyway, I saw your file in there and knew it was your birthday today -- Happy birthday! -- and I hadn’t got you a gift earlier, which maybe I should have because it would have made this whole problem a lot easier to deal with, because I’d forgotten about your birthday again until after take-off from Fitton.” He paused for a second to take a gasping breath. “It was too late to find you a gift from inside the plane, and even though that Christmas party you threw me was brilliant, I wanted to get you a _real_ gift from a store and everything, so I stopped at Duty Free while we were at the airport and bought you a Toblerone. Aw, Skip, I really wish you’d seen it; it was one of the white ones, and I was really excited to give it to you! But, by the time I got up here, it had disappeared from my bag.”  
  
Douglas stared at him for a moment. “That was your idea of ‘starting with the candy bar and sticking just to the candy bar,’ was it?”  
  
Martin broke in. “Arthur, who, beside you and Douglas, had access to your bag from the time you bought the candy bar to the moment you tried to retrieve it?”  
  
Arthur shuffled his feet and peered at the metal ceiling. “Well, I left it with Mum and Captain Fairburn for a few minutes when I had to use the toilet at the airport. It was after Herc had left to replace the captain on Caledonia’s aeroplane, and we were just sitting in the lounge while we waited to load GERTI. I was hungry because we didn’t have time to stop for lunch, so I grabbed some chewy toffees when I bought your Toblerone, but they’re _really_ sticky and got stuck in my teeth! We had a few minutes before we needed to be back on GERTI, so I took my toothbrush and--”  
  
“You brought your _toothbrush_?” Douglas interrupted, eyebrow raised in surprise. “Whatever for? This is a short round-way trip; not more than a few hours, at most.”  
  
“Well, yeah, but...you never know, do you? What if we’d crashed somewhere in the wilderness on the way there or back and had to live with a pack of wolves until we could be rescued by a hunter or a family gone camping?”  
  
“I daresay you’d have bigger things to worry about than dental hygiene. Like being permanently reclaimed as a lost member of the pack.”  
  
 _“Anyway,”_ Martin interjected, trying to bring the conversation back on track.  
  
“So, anyway, I took my toothbrush and went to brush my teeth, leaving my bag with Mum and Captain Fairburn. They were still there when I got back about ten minutes later, and I don’t think they left it unattended, so probably no one walked up and stole the Toblerone.”  
  
“Right. Okay, so that can only mean our prime suspects are Carolyn and Captain Fairburn,” Martin summarised.  
  
“Captain Fairburn? Really?” Douglas questioned, tilting his head at him curiously. “He looked rather queasy when we picked him up -- after all, we’re only here because he fell ill enough for Cal Air to need a replacement pilot -- and considering the disgustingly vile sounds of retching I heard from him earlier, I doubt that snatching Toblerones would rank high on his list of priorities.”  
  
“So, you think Mum did it?” Arthur shook his head, like he couldn’t comprehend the possibility, but he murmured, “She does _really_ like Toblerones...”  
  
As they contemplated the situation, the intercom _bing-bong_ ed. “Is Arthur up there with you?” Carolyn demanded the moment Douglas opened the connection.  
  
“Here, Mum!”  
  
“Finally! Arthur, dear, if you’re quite done screeching like a howler monkey and bothering my pilots, get back here. I have a job for you. When you went tearing past making that horrible noise, our passenger choked on the water he was trying to keep down, and it rather upset his already unsettled stomach. First he went a bit green, then he produced something green in the loo, and now I’ve spent the last ten minutes sitting with him in the toilet and calming him down while he emptied his innards. Believe me, it was not a pleasant ten minutes, and I’m rather cross that _I_ was the one taking care of it.”  
  
“Right. Sorry, Mum.”  
  
“Don’t bother being sorry; just get back here and clean it all up! There’s no fun in mocking a pilot when he’s liable to vomit on your shoes.”  
  
“Ah, just a moment, Carolyn.” Douglas muted the intercom and turned to face Martin. “I’ve got a plan. We might as well cover all our bases and question Captain Fairburn while we’ve got him here, even if I very much doubt he’s the one responsible; so, you should go with Arthur and have a little chat with the captain on the way to the loo while I call Carolyn up here to talk to her myself. Between the three of us, we should be able to figure out what happened.”  
  
“Aren’t you worried you’re taking your life in your own hands?” Martin looked more than a little alarmed at the notion of questioning Carolyn.  
  
“I’m not the one to be concerned about; I’m certainly at no risk of, say, losing my salary after a confrontation with her, unlike certain pilots on this aeroplane. And, I’m an old hat at surreptitiously gathering information without showing my hand. Carolyn will have no reason to suspect me of anything even approaching foul play. It’s not as if I’m going to go about accusing her of _serial theft,_ so at worst she’ll be slightly offended and brush it off.”  
  
“Douglas, you _are_ a serial thief.”  
  
“Nevertheless, I’ll be fine. You two should just worry about not insulting our dear passenger.” He lifted his finger from the mute button and told Carolyn, “Arthur is on his way now, but if you’ve got a moment to spare from your incredibly important task of avoiding projectile vomit, I’d like to discuss something with you on the flight deck.”  
  
“Fine! It certainly can’t be any worse than metaphorically holding a pilot’s hair from his face while he’s shoulder-deep in the toilet bowl. I’ll be right up.”  
  
The intercom clicked off, and the three exchanged looks. “You’re sure you’ll be alright, Douglas?” Arthur asked. “It’s just that Mum’s not going to like it if you accuse her of stealing Skip’s birthday present if she really didn’t. Not that she’d probably like it even if she _did_ steal it, which I hope she didn’t, but it does kind of look like she did, and I just don’t know what to think anymore.”  
  
“I’ll deal with your mother’s wrath. If nothing else, it’ll pass the time with no word games to play. Much like the thrill of holding off a lion with naught but a dilapidated chair and a piece of string for a whip. Not that I’d ever consider using a real whip on Carolyn, but you understand my point.”  
  
“Actually, I think I saw Herc with something--”  
  
“ _Arthur!_ Please, for the sake of all our sanity, do _not_ say another word.”  
  
“Let’s get out of here before we’re scarred for life. Douglas, you have control.”  
  
“You bet I do.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Hullo, Captain Fairburn! How are you feeling? Mum said you weren’t feeling too well, and she thought I’d better come back to help you. I know she was helping you before, but now she’s asked me to be the helper because she knows I love helping. Even when it involves getting sick on my shoes.”  
  
“Yes, Arthur is well known as a very good helper, so you’re bound to feel better in no time.”  
  
“Would that a good helper was all it took to cure the stomach flu,” Captain Fairburn replied, “but thanks for the kind sentiments, anyway.” A wan smile spread across his pasty features, and he offered his hand to Martin. “You must be the captain; my sister’s mentioned you, and I’d recognize that voice anywhere, after that cabin address.”  
  
“O-oh! Er, thank you, I suppose. And, um, I hope Linda wasn’t too harsh recounting our meeting.”  
  
“Not to worry; I know to take anything she says with a grain of salt!” He winked valiantly and continued, “I never knew you could fit so many airport codes into a simple address. The ‘SIT back and TRI to avoid ANI FAY in the PUB that might LUR you away from the DEC on this DAY; you can BET we’ll make the BIL worth your while before you’ve GON HOM,’ was my favorite, I must say.”  
  
“Wow, Skip! I never thought anyone but you and Douglas would have figured that one out. You must be really smart, Captain Fairburn!”  
  
“It’s kind of you to say, but really it’s a matter of practice. My family has a tradition of inserting word games and references into casual conversation, so I’m always on the lookout by force of habit. And, please, call me Hamish.”  
  
“Yes, of course. Ah, right. In that case, call me Martin.”  
  
“And you can call me Captain Brilliant. I’ve always wanted to be called that!”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Alright, Douglas, I’m here. And, why did I pass Martin on my way?”  
  
“Oh, he decided he needed to rediscover his humility and help Arthur with the mess in the loo. Now, I wanted to talk --”  
  
“ _Martin?_ You’re telling me that _Martin_ went to help Arthur mop up vomit? Good lord, what are you lording over him this time?”  
  
“I might have engineered it so he meets the dishy Captain F. I fear the captain’s epaulets will forever languish in a drawer alone without my interference.”  
  
“Oh, lovely; so, not only is Martin not doing his job and flying the plane, he’s terrorising our passenger with his painful attempts at flirtation. I shudder to think what will happen to the loo once Martin is done with him. Thank you, Douglas. You are a boon to this business.”  
  
“Well, I must admit that there may have been yet another ulterior reason for him to go with Arthur -- though, our dear Captain Crieff of course thinks it is the only reason, more fool him. You are aware that today is Sir’s birthday?”  
  
“Douglas, if you called me up here to plan a surprise party for Martin...”  
  
“By no means; believe me, there are few who realise better than I how loathe you are to expend the extra effort or money for the sake of celebrating an employee’s ‘special day,’ as Arthur put it. No, I only meant to say that Arthur had bought Martin a candy bar for his birthday present, which has since gone missing. Arthur, of course, is devastated.”  
  
“So _that’s_ why he went screaming through the cabin and startled Captain Fairburn into turning his stomach inside out.”  
  
“Precisely. The poor boy was nearly in tears, so Martin decided to keep him company to cheer him up --”  
  
“-- Leaving you alone in the flight deck. Wonderful. Apparently, Arthur’s idiocy is just as contagious as Captain Fairburn’s flu.”  
  
“It is a rather unfavourable situation, I have to agree. If only we knew what had happened to the Toblerone, we could resolve the conflict so that Arthur wouldn’t feel guilty and Martin wouldn’t have to trail after him like his threadbare Paddington. I don’t suppose _you_ saw what happened, Carolyn?”  
  
Carolyn crossed her arms and tilted her nose up. “You called me up here to interrogate me about Arthur’s Toblerone, didn’t you?”  
  
“ _Moi?_ I assure you, ma’am, I would never dream of accusing you of such an outrageous -- ”  
  
“Please, Douglas. Do shut up. As it happens, I care for both my son and that ridiculous captain of ours, though should you ever mention such a thing to him it will be the last thing you say. So, I am going to help you by cutting right to the chase: I spied the chocolate during layover while Captain Fairburn, Arthur and I were waiting to board GERTI. Arthur had been blabbering about how we’d all forgotten Martin’s birthday, so when we got to the airport earlier he went and bought that silly candy bar.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“The Toblerone? I’d been sitting next to Ms. Knapp-Shappey in the waiting area while we waited for you to get back from the Duty Free, Arthur, and I first saw it when you left for the washroom,” Hamish explained. He turned back to Martin. “It looked quite delicious, I have to say, and I’m sorry to hear it’s gone missing.”  
  
“Thank you for your condolences. I wonder, Hamish, what made a sick man such as yourself notice something so decadent? Certainly, it must be too rich for your stomach in this state.”  
  
“Well, that’s part of the problem: I’ve been having such a hard time keeping anything down that I’ve been limited to only the blandest foods, and I’ve got a bit of a weakness for Toblerones. So, even if it was only wishful thinking, that Toblerone caught my eye.”  
  
“I... see. Well, um... do you... maybe... have some ideas of what might have happened to such an … enticing tidbit?”  
  
Hamish shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. We were interrupted briefly, and I don’t remember noticing whether the candy bar was still in Arthur’s bag when he came back from the toilets. But, I’m sure it must have been: The bag was right beside us the whole time.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“So,” Carolyn continued, “we waited until Arthur got back from the washroom several minutes later, though how the boy managed to get that much foam all down his shirt I don’t want to know. We barely made it in time to board GERTI, in fact.”  
  
“And, was the Toblerone still in Arthur’s bag at that point?”  
  
“Well, it must have been. We had it beside us the whole time. In fact, I remember that Captain Fairburn and I even commented on our shared love of Toblerones before we were distracted. Besides, certainly no one would steal just a piece of candy from someone’s bag -- they’d take the whole bag!”  
  
“Unless, of course, they were specifically after the candy bar,” Douglas countered, “and they weren’t interested in Arthur’s valuables. In fact, I’d wager our hypothetical master criminal is known to harbour a great love for Toblerones.”  
  
“That’s a rather considerate thief you’re describing, and I’m getting the feeling that your ‘hypothetical person’ is somewhat more definitive than you’re letting on.” Carolyn peered at him belligerently. “Of whom exactly are you thinking?”  
  
“Whom, indeed. But, go on: Tell me what happened next, during the boarding process.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“There was a bit of a shuffle getting on the plane --”  
  
“I remember that! You got sick again, and Mum sent me to grab paper towels from the maintenance men, who were really brilliant about it even if they got a bit shouty at me for running in front of the baggage truck. It was a lot of fun driving across Spain with you, Skip, but I don’t think I’d want to drive a baggage truck myself. It seemed to really toss the driver around when he slammed on the brakes.”  
  
“...yes. As I was saying, though, you left your bag with your mother when you went to fetch the towels, and she had it for several minutes while I was sick all over the tarmac.”  
  
“Oh? Oh! Yes, I did! That’s right; Mum had my bag that whole time.” Arthur and Martin exchanged a meaningful glance. “You don’t think...”  
  
“I’m afraid it’s looking that way,” Martin said gently.  
  
“But, she wouldn’t! Not Mum!”  
  
“Let’s get the rest of the story before we make any accusations,” Martin said, “but sometimes even the people we trust do terrible, terrible things -- things that they’d usually balk at -- if the incentive is strong enough.”  
  
“It did look like an exceptionally delicious Toblerone. I picked out the best one in the shop for you, Skip.”  
  
“Hamish, if you’d continue? What happened after you boarded?”  
  


* * *

  
  
“I see, Carolyn. Well, a more suspicious soul would suggest you had several minutes alone with the bag, for all intents and purposes.”  
  
“Be very careful about what you’re implying, Douglas. Yes, I had the bag to myself, but I never once opened it. Believe me, I was too busy trying to juggle the bag in one arm and a violently ill pilot in the other to spare the attention to a measly bit of chocolate.”  
  
“Of course, but you must admit that it is a bit suspect. After all, Arthur’s Toblerone was in his bag, but now it isn’t, and it seems as though you’re the only one who had unimpeded  access to it in the interim.”  
  
“Then you should learn to seek all the facts before making a judgement, Detective Poirot. As it turns out, our dear Arthur left his bag in the cabin with Captain Fairburn, an admitted lover of Toblerones, while we were preparing for lift-off. So you see, Douglas, you’re interrogating the wrong person. Much as I’d hate to accuse a valued passenger of theft, I believe Captain Fairburn is your man.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Arthur, why would you leave your bag with a passenger?”  
  
“Well, I think I got confused. You see, he has a black bag, I have a black bag, you have a black bag, _everyone_ has a black bag! Oh, you know what would be brilliant? If I had a yellow bag, I could start a new game called ‘Yellow Bag,’ and I would always win because I would always have my own bag with me.”  
  
“Focus, Arthur.”  
  
“Right. So, yes, I realised after we took off that I had put Captain Fairburn’s bag in the galley cupboard and left my bag with him. So, Mum came back out to make the switch, and when she gave me back my bag I decided it was time to give you your present. Do you remember that, Captain Fairburn?”  
  
“All too well,” Hamish replied, rubbing his ear in memory.  
  


* * *

  
  
Douglas stretched. “Well, I think that’s all I need to know. You’re free to go, Carolyn, but don’t leave town. And could you send Martin back on your way out?”  
  
“God save me from pilots who fancy themselves Belgian detectives.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“It’s Carolyn. It’s got to be Carolyn,” Martin said as soon as the door had closed behind him. “She had the opportunity to take the candy when they were boarding: Hamish took ill, and Arthur left his bag with Carolyn while he went to fetch paper towels to clean the mess.”  
  
“‘Hamish,’ Captain? Could it be that in a delicious turn of events you find yourself a little sweet on the Terrible Toblerone Thief?”  
  
“What are you talking about? Carolyn stole it, I just told you! And, I’m n-not sweet on him. He’s just another captain, that’s all. One who’s smart enough to recognise international airport codes when slipped into everyday speech.”  
  
“Unfortunately, just like our last round, you’re close but sans cigar: Carolyn didn’t steal it. Captain Fairburn did.” He explained what Carolyn had told him.  
  
“B-but, Carolyn had just as much motive and means as Hamish! When they were boarding --”  
  
“When they were boarding, Carolyn had the bag in one hand and the ill pilot in the other. She said she didn’t have the spare time or limbs to nab the candy. It was Fairburn. Bad luck, Captain. As usual. Speaking of bad luck, where’s Arthur?”  
  
“Cleaning the loo,” Martin replied, “and Captain Fairburn didn’t steal it, either. That bag has a luggage lock on it, and while Carolyn might certainly have the key, there’s no way Captain Fairburn does.”  
  
“Those locks are mass produced; a baby otter could break into one. I’d be willing to bet your sweetheart has a dozen luggage keys, any one of which might work.”  
  
“Well, anyway, how helpful do you really imagine Carolyn would be in that situation, especially when the passenger is just another pilot from Cal Air? I can’t imagine her the picture of solicitude; I’m sure she kept her distance and her limbs to herself.”  
  
There was a beat of silence as they contemplated the facts of the case so far.  
  
“Now that you mention it...”  
  
“Of course, you’re right about the lock, too, Douglas. How much of an obstacle would that be to you?”  
  
“About as much as Arthur after a few shots of vodka.” They looked at each other and sighed. “Alright, so maybe Carolyn _did_ do it.”    
  
“And I’ll go talk to Captain Fairburn, again.”  
  
“Send the lioness back into the ring on your way.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Er, hello again, H-Hamish.”  
  
“Martin, how lucky to see you again so soon. Has the Toblerone been recovered?”  
  
“Ah... no. No, it hasn’t. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Martin’s fingers twitched against the crease of his trousers. “It’s come to my attention that, er, many of the bags have the same kinds of locks, and that you probably have a key that fits it, too. So, I’m afraid that your alibi doesn’t hold water.”  
  
“Oh. Er, well, that’s true.”  
  
“Is there anything else you can say to convince me that you didn’t have anything to do with this?”  
  
“Martin -- I’m the client. Are you sure you want to be asking me these questions?”  
  
“...no. But, um. It’s -- It’s Arthur, you know. So, I guess what I mean to say is, is there any more information you can give me?”  
  
“If nothing else, I suppose all these questions give you an excuse to keep coming back here. I almost wish the candy bar had been there when I tried to --”  
  
“When you _what?_ Ham -- Captain Fairburn, were you about to say ‘when I tried to steal it’?”  
  
“Martin! I never would have tried it if I had known it was meant for you! But... yes. I admit it. I’m so sorry.”  
  
 _“You’re the thief!”_  
  
“Now, wait a minute; I was going to say when I _tried_ to steal it. It was already gone by the time I got Arthur’s bag open. I don’t know what happened to it, but I promise that it wasn’t me. Believe me, if I had stolen it, I would have apologised the moment I realised it was for your birthday. You deserve a gift as lovely as you. A Toblerone would never do you justice, but it’s a start.”  
  
“I...” Martin blinked at him. “You think I’m lovely?”  
  
“Well, to be fair, I’m more than a bit under the weather, but from the one eye I can see out of I certainly think so.”  
  
Martin huffed a laugh. “You’ve got stomach flu. It shouldn’t affect your vision.”  
  
“Hm, is that so? Ah, well, nothing to be done for it. Both my eyes agree: You’re lovely.”  
  
“Well, er. Thanks. It’s lovely of you to say so. And, not everyone would be so cheerful when accused of petty theft, unless they’re Arthur... and, you know, he’s not the brightest apple in the barrel. N-not that I’m saying you’re not intelligent, because anyone who can catch on to our word games is obviously pretty smart, and, um. Thank you. You’re l-lovely, too.” Cheeks burning, he stammered to a stop.  
  
“I’d have to be an idiot to be rude to you. Even with this horrible flu, I think today might be my lucky day.”  
  
“Ha! Lucky? Oh, yes, because being blamed for a missing candy bar by the captain of a struggling airdot has all the hallmarks of a very lucky day.”  
  
“He’s a very lovely captain, though, as I think we’ve established: One who turns a very charming shade of fuschia when presented with testimony to his loveliness, pinker than perhaps even me, with my certainly outlandish fever.”  
  
Martin sighed. “Well, that’s just my luck: Your fever must have put you into a state of delirium. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”  
  
“Your loveliness makes sense. WIL YOO GOE out with MEE?”  
  
“Right, that settles it. Arthur! I’m going to need a thermometer for the captain!”  
  


* * *

  
  
“This had better be good, Douglas.”  
  
“Ah, Carolyn, welcome back to the flight deck. Can I get you anything?”  
  
“You say that as though I won’t be furious if I find out I’m still the prime suspect in the Great Toblerone Heist of 2012.”  
  
“Carolyn. I’m only doing this for Arthur. And Martin, who quite rightly pointed out that regardless of what our in-flight video suggests, the comfort of a sickly passenger isn’t quite your paramount priority.”  
  
“Oh, Douglas. Do you honestly think I’d let my only child run about in tears over a ridiculous piece of triangular chocolate? You have a child yourself. What do you really think?”  
  
“It’s not quite the same thing, though, is it? I see my twelve-year-old daughter twice a month and every other Christmas. It’s not the cozy arrangement of having had her down the hallway for the past twenty-nine years.”  
  
“Do you imagine you’d love her less if she had been down the hall from you for the past twenty-nine years?”  
  
“...”  
  
“Quite.”  
  
“So, you really didn’t take it, then?’  
  
“Of course not! I’ve been telling you that. Granted, the thought did cross my mind, but I didn’t get the opportunity until I retrieved Arthur’s bag from our passenger, and by that point it had already gone. I assumed that Arthur had taken it out intentionally, but now it seems Captain Fairburn might be responsible.”  
  
“Martin’s talking to him now, though with the lad’s obvious infatuation I wonder if anything will come of it.” He rolled his shoulders and settled in the seat. “A bit ridiculous, this, isn’t it? The whole crew is up in arms, all in aid of a missing Toblerone -- a Toblerone that, I suspect, was merely misplaced by our dear Arthur after all.”  
  
“Yes, he can be something of an idiot sometimes, can’t he?” Carolyn smiled fondly and took Martin’s chair, careful to avoid the controls. “But, he’s our idiot, and that’s what matters.”  
  
“Even if it means we spend an entire flight scrambling for a few pounds worth of chocolate,” Douglas agreed. “You should have seen the sheen in his eyes when he came up here; I was certain that our our electronics were going to be at risk of water corrosion. You just can’t say no to an expression like that.”  
  
“Don’t I know it. There’s just something about seeing a child’s smile fall -- even if the child in question is nearly thirty -- that just makes you need to make everything right.”  
  
Douglas hummed. “When Marjory was six, back when I was still with Air England, she gave me a drawing for me to put up in my cockpit. I tried to explain to her that there was nowhere to legally put it, but when her great big smile dropped and her eyes filled up... well. Regulations or no, that picture found a place in the flight deck. I was teased mercilessly about it for weeks, but seeing her face light up when she saw it made it all worth it.”  
  
“I’ll admit, after three decades, it gets easier to let them find their own way, but the inclination to fix everything never really goes away.”  
  
“I don’t suppose it will really be relevant for me. I doubt I’ll ever be in her everyday life again.” Douglas cleared his throat and continued, in a more usual tone of voice. “Fortunately for me, Sir needs rescuing as much as any tween girl, so I’ve an outlet for any superfluous fatherly instincts.”  
  
“And Arthur doesn’t seem to be showing any inclination to actually grow up. I suspect I’ll be knee-deep in maternal aegis for years to come.”  
  
“We are lucky, aren’t we?”  
  
“Really, Douglas. Must you be so soppy?”  
  


* * *

  
  
“This weekend, then, so long as my health improves?” Hamish asked as Martin escorted him off the plane. “I know it’ll be late for your birthday, but we can still celebrate.”  
  
“Oh, definitely; I’m really looking forward to it. I love Italian.”  
  
“Yes, of course. I’m terribly sorry about your shoes, by the way.”  
  
“Aren’t they disgustingly sweet?” Carolyn muttered to Douglas. “It’s teeth-rottingly saccharine.”  
  
“Fitting, then, that they were brought together by a Toblerone, isn’t it?”  
  
“Except that we never found Skip’s present!” Arthur wailed from where he trailed behind them all. “And now we’ll never know what happened to it.”  
  
Carolyn and Douglas turned to each other with sardonically raised eyebrows. “Will you tell him, or shall I?” Carolyn asked.  
  
“By all means, he’s your son.”  
  
“Arthur, dear, during the course of this flight we have determined that neither Douglas, myself, nor Captain Fairburn stole the Toblerone. Martin clearly didn’t because he would have admitted to it as soon as you told him about it. If none of us took it, and the only other person on the flight was you, then what’s the only possible explanation?”  
  
“I _knew_ it! There _is_ a fudgie on GERTI!”  
  
“Ah, a fudgie, Arthur? Are you suggesting that the chocolate bar was stolen by another chocolate bar?”  
  
“No, Skip, of course not! That’s ridiculous; how could a piece of fudge steal a whole Toblerone?”  
  
“It does seem a bit unrealistic, now that you mention it,” Douglas deadpanned.  
  
“I meant a fudgie like those magical creatures in folk tales. You know, the ones that live in people’s houses and do chores for them? Except, you’re supposed to give them treats of food in return, so this one must have mistaken Skip’s gift for a food offering.”  
  
“Those are called brownies, Arthur, and I feel confident that GERTI holds none; if anything, she carries a steady manifest of gremlins. No, my friendly young steward, the only possible explanation, I’m afraid, is that _you_ are responsible for the misplacement of the Toblerone.”  
  
“No! No!”  
  
“You said it yourself: You had the Toblerone in the airport, and only Captain Hamish and myself had access to it between then and when you went to find it.”  
  
“Right! So you --”  
  
“I admitted to Martin I did want it, and for that, I apologize. I couldn’t be more ashamed of myself; I’m only glad you’ve all been so understanding about everything. But, I swear to you, it was gone by the time I looked.”  
  
“Still, that leaves --”  
  
“Your mother also admitted to Douglas she intended to, ah … borrow... your candy. Indefinitely. But, Arthur, listen to me. I appreciate how much you want me to have the gift, but, it really is the thought that counts and believe me when I tell you I _know_ that you thought about me. You really don’t have to do anything more.”  
  
“But, I promise, Skip, I --”  
  
“Ah, MJN returns triumphant once more. Always a relief to see GERTI hasn’t decided to retire mid-flight.”  
  
“Oh, hello, Herc. Can you give us a minute? We’re trying to explain to Arthur --”  
  
“Oh, good, Arthur, just the man I wanted to see: I have something for you. You see, I was running late for the flight back to Fitton, and I didn’t have time to grab something to eat, so I took the Toblerone I saw sitting in your bag when I went to get the keys I’d accidentally left with Carolyn. I hope you don’t mind, but I bought you a larger one to replace it.”  
  
“Herc -- _you_ took the Toblerone? You?” Carolyn seemed to be the only one of them capable of speech at the moment.  
  
“I’m sorry, I meant to send Arthur a text to let him know I had. I hope you weren’t looking too hard for it in the meanwhile.”  
  
“Not at all...”  
  
Arthur grinned. “HEE TUK the CAN-DIE! AYE TOL UEO SEW! NAO SKP KAN EAT HIS TOE-BLE-REN!”  
  
“Oh, dear, Martin. That was a solid sixteen against your fifteen. I’m afraid you’ve come in last. Again.”  
  
~ Cue Music (The End) ~


End file.
